Those Tracy boys!
by quiller
Summary: Sharing an island with the Tracy boys might not be as idyllic as you might think - ask Tin Tin. A complete story, but with an invitation to you all
1. A bad day

Those Tracy boys  
  
Author's note: all known biographical details taken from Chris Bentley's 'Complete book of Thunderbirds'. Standard disclaimer: My acknowledgement to Carlton plc as the copyright holders of the characters, and my thanks to Gerry Anderson and co. for creating them  
  
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I storm into my bedroom, for once wishing it didn't have automatic doors. I'm just in the mood for slamming a door behind me. I am absolutely seething. I swear, if Alan treats me like that one more time I'm going to - well, I don't know quite what I'd do, I just know he'd certainly need the services of International Rescue by the time I'd finished with him.  
  
Hey, whoa there girl, you're over-reacting here. Is it that time of the month or something? I walk over to the window and lean out, looking at the sea and taking deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. I should be used to it by now - I've lived with them all for long enough to know what they're like The trouble with these Tracy boys is that they wouldn't recognise an emotional reaction if you hit them over the head with it. Sometimes it gets too much for me and I find myself just flaring up.  
  
Their father is the worst culprit at this - he deals with his feelings by pretending they don't exist. It's nearly twenty years now since his wife died, and he still can't bear to talk to his sons about her. Sometimes I feel he's got this big knot of pain deep inside him that he just can't let go. I wish I'd met Lucille. Grandma Tracy showed me a photo of her once. Gordon's got her colouring, but Grandma tells me John takes after her too; he has her build, her long slender fingers, and her habit of constantly pushing back the curl that falls across his forehead. I know Jeff loved her deeply - well any couple who have five children in as many years obviously couldn't keep their hands off each other. Grandma told me that Lucille died in a plane crash - fortunately not a plane belonging to Jeff's airline. Lucille had been to Buenos Aires for a friend's wedding, but at the last minute on her return had switched flights to a rival company so she could get back early. According to his mother, one of the things that Jeff can't forgive himself for is the idea that if he had accompanied Lucille to the wedding, instead of pleading pressure of work, then he would have been flying them in his own plane and the crash would not have happened. Of course his mother tried to tell him that they might both have been killed, but he can't let himself believe that. Too much pride, too much grief, too much guilt. The crash happened in a remote part of the Andes and though some of the passengers survived the initial crash they died later of their wounds, or of exposure, before the rescue crews could find them. I gather that was one of the reasons that led Jeff Tracy to found International Rescue in the first place.  
  
Scott is so like his father in many ways - including the way he bottles up his feelings. Though he is easy-going most of the time, there is a dark side to him. He can get into some very black moods sometimes, and often Virgil is the only one who can get him out of them. There is a strong bond between those two., and Virgil acts as Scott's emotional safety valve. Without Virgil I think Scott would implode under the weight of his feelings - that or hit the bottle. Don't get me wrong - I've been on operations with them and Scott is brilliant as a field commander, but he takes any failures (and we do have some) personally. He is always conscious of the fact that he is sending his brothers into danger and this is the hardest part for him - he has been looking after his younger brothers ever since their mother died. His own childhood ended at that point, when he was ten years old, and he had to do some fast growing up - maybe too fast for his own good.  
  
John is completely different. It must be hard for him, by nature the quiet type, among such a group of extroverts; he's always tended to be something of a loner. But at least he is able to articulate his feelings, either verbally, or in those diaries I know he writes.  
  
Virgil's easy - you always know what mood he is in from what sort of music he is playing. If it's ragtime, then we're in for a good day. If it's Wagner, run - run and hide!  
  
Gordon's emotions are always pretty near the surface. He's normally got a sunny nature, but occasionally he'll blow up, then it will just as quickly be over - must be something to do with the red hair.  
  
As to Alan - well, sometimes I wonder what he would have been like if he hadn't been the youngest of the family. Sometimes I could scream at him to act his age, rather than his shoe size. But he seems to be maturing - slowly - so there's hope for him yet. Certainly he is getting a better control of his temper, and of the jealousy he used to show if one of his brothers so much as looked at me - a trait the others all used to exploit mercilessly.  
  
So how do I fit into all this? That's a good question. I can still remember the first time I met the Tracy family. My mother had died when I was born, and from what Grandma Tracy tells me, Lucille and Jeff were both very supportive to my father at that time. When Lucille died, Mrs Tracy turned up at the house to look after her grandsons, took one look at Jeff and sent for my father as one of the few people she could think of who could reach him in his current state of mind. We had come over from Paris to their house in Kansas. I was only six years old, but as I entered the house even I was aware of the atmosphere of grief that hung in the air.  
  
I remember heading for the garden, and there, under a tree I saw a boy of about my own age with blond hair. He was sitting on the ground, hugging his legs to his chest, with his head on his knees. As I approached he looked up. He had obviously been crying. "My Mommy's dead" he said, "I'm never going to see her again."  
  
I sat down next to him. "My Mommy died when I was born. I never saw her at all." (Hey, I was only six years old here!).  
  
He looked at me. "What's your name?"  
  
"Tian." (Well, it was, then.)  
  
This seemed to stump him. "Tin?" He tried again, "Tin Tin?" And so I became. My father tells me that it means 'sweetness' in his own language, so he likes to use it too. I don't think I'd even respond if I heard my old name now. I only use it on official documents.  
  
As to how I fit into this male-dominated household, well all the boys have their own way of treating me. The older two regard me as a younger sister - maybe the sister they always wish they'd had. Scott is as caring and protective of me as he is with his own brothers. John treats me the same - in fact he even calls me 'little sister' now and again, which I find very touching. Virgil? Well sometimes I suspect his feelings for me are not totally brotherly. I often wonder what he'd have done if Alan hadn't staked his claim so openly. Gordon is the most overt in his response to me - for instance if I turn up at the poolside in a new bikini he is usually the one to greet me with a wolf-whistle - even if it means he gets a glare from Alan or a smack round the back of the head from one of his older brothers.  
  
Alan? Well, that brings us back to where we started. Sometimes I get the feeling that to him I'm a piece of real estate that he's going to get round to developing - eventually. Surely he should realise that you can't treat people like that? He must have had other girlfriends, at college or when he was in astronaut training. With those looks he would have been beating them off with a big stick, so he ought to know how to behave. And me? Well, yes, there have been other men; some, like dear Eddie Houseman, were quite keen. But at the back of my mind I've always known Alan was the one I was waiting for.  
  
But I'm damned if I'm going to wait forever.  
  
Well, I suppose I could always make the first move. 


	2. The gobetween

Dear Readers, I have a problem. When I wrote 'Those Tracy Boys' it was as a quick snapshot – a look at the boys through Tin Tin's eyes. It was never intended to be a full length story. But my Muse had other ideas and gave me this chapter. So the problem is that the first chapter was written from Tin Tin's point of view. This chapter, as you will soon see, cannot possibly be done in the same way. So please forgive the change of style – it's a question of 'If I was going there, I wouldn't start from here' – and I hope you enjoy the story. 

quiller

PS There WILL be a third chapter, I promise  – I'll try not to keep you waiting too long!

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The go-between 

John walked along the beach towards the headland. He had been home nearly a week now, and this was the first chance he had had to fulfil his promise to Alan. Just as he was about to leave the space station after his last tour of duty, Alan had stopped him. "John, can you do me a favour?"

"Sure thing, Alan – what is it?"

Alan seemed to find it hard to meet his eye. Looking out of the window he said "Do you think you can find out what's bugging Tin Tin? She always seems to be a bad mood with me these days, and I can't think what I've done to upset her."

John had promised to do his best, and when he saw her setting off along the beach after lunch today, he thought it would be a good opportunity. He found her sitting where he thought he would. Just around the headland was a group of rocks where he often came himself if he wanted some privacy; you were out of sight of the house, yet near enough to return if an emergency call came through. 

Tin Tin was sitting on a rock, her chin resting on her hands, gazing out to sea. At the sound of his footsteps she turned and waved. "Hi there, John. Out for a walk?"

"Hi yourself. Do you mind some company, or shall I keep going?"

"No, I don't mind" She gestured. "Pull up a rock." 

He sat down beside her, then bent forward and picked up a handful of pebbles and began skimming them across the waves.

She watched for a minute. "You're good at that."

"Yes" he answered, "it's nice to know I haven't lost my touch." He glanced sideways at her, then said in a quiet voice, "Want to talk about it?"

"About what?" she answered, somewhat sharply.

"Come on, little sis. This is me you're talking to. I've known since I got back home that something wasn't right. What's the problem? Are you missing that brother of mine?"

She shot him a glance that would have curdled milk. "To be honest John, at the moment I don't know which is worst – when Alan isn't here, or when he is."

John inhaled sharply – this didn't sound good. "Hey, what's going on? You two had a row or something?"

"Nothing's 'going on' as you put it. That's the trouble." She pounded on her knees with her fists. "Sometimes I could scream at him 'For God's sake, DO something'. What's he waiting for? At this rate I shall be old and grey before he ever makes a move." She looked at John. "And do you know something? He never touches me."

"What do you mean? Don't forget I very rarely see the two of you together."

"Just that. He'll stand near me, or sit next to me, but he never touches me. And if I touch him, even accidentally, he flinches – it's like I'm red hot or something." She looked at John. "I'm getting tired of it, John. I'm at the end of my tether here, but I don't know what to do."

John picked up some more pebbles and started skimming again while he thought. "Have you tried giving him some sort of ultimatum? After all, he's not the only fish in the sea."

She smiled. "Has Virgil been talking to you as well?"

"Virgil?" The next pebble sank without trace. "Why should he?"

"Well, I know the others all go to you when they've got problems." She paused. "Why is that?"

"Probably because I'm the one who listens. If you want something done, you go to Scott. If you just want to talk you go to your friendly 'Agony Uncle' John."

She looked at him closely. "And what about you, John. Who do you go to?"

"Quis custodes ipsos custodiet, eh?"

"What was that?"

"Sorry, showing off there," he flashed a grin, for a second looking about ten years old. "It's Latin. 'Who will guard the guardians?' I go to me, too. It all goes in my diary."

"Oh, yes, I've heard Gordon tease you about that."

John gave a mock shudder. "I'd sooner give Ned Cook and his camera crew a tour of this island than let that prankster brother of mine anywhere near my diary. But why did you mention Virgil, anyway?"

She smiled. "I've always had the feeling that he was fond of me."

He looked at her for a moment, then said quietly "We're all fond of you, Tin Tin. Never forget that."

"Oh, John, that's so sweet." She leaned forward, putting an arm round his shoulders, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Next time I see that youngest brother of mine I'll give him a good talking-to. Maybe if I tell him that he's got some competition down here it might spur him to get a move on."

"Thanks, John – you've made me feel a lot better." She stood up. "I think I'll head back to the house now. Are you coming?"

He shook his head. "No, I think I'll sit here for a bit longer. Bye now"

John watched her walk away, waited until she had disappeared round the headland, then slumped forward, burying his head in his hands. 'John, you stupid fool! - you total, utter idiot. You are never going to get another chance like that if you live to be a hundred. WHY didn't you say something? You're the one who's supposed to be good at words. It isn't even as if the words are very complicated. You could have told her. "I love you, too, Tin Tin" See? It's not that hard.' He picked up another handful of pebbles. How long had it been going on? It must be more than ten years now. Yes, that's right, he was in his last year at school when he first became aware of his feelings for her. That's when he started this 'Little sis' business, both to hide his true feelings, and also to remind himself that she was off limits. Even then it was pretty obvious that she only had eyes for Alan. Well, he had done such a good job of it that that was obviously how she saw him now – as a big brother, a person to go to for advice, a shoulder to cry on. He stood up and flung the last pebble with all his strength, far out into the bay. 

He'd done what he'd been asked to do; he'd fulfil his role as go-between and report back to Alan, but maybe with a word of warning that the competition was getting a bit fierce, and if Alan didn't make a move he might find himself lagging behind. And Virgil too? That was something he hadn't realised. He would have to keep an eye on his middle brother. It was always the quiet ones you had to watch out for.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he turned back along the beach.


	3. Resolutions

3.Resolutions

Author's preamble: I would like to thank everyone who took the time and trouble to send me their comments and suggestions after chapter 2. I had so many good ideas that it would not be possible to use all of them (Tin Tin isn't that kind of girl for a start!). Here is my version of what happens next, with an invitation at the end to you all.

One point: after I wrote 'Chance meeting' I was taken to task (though very nicely) for calling Jeff's father 'Harry'. I use the Bentley book as my authority (which is based on all the original 1960s material) and he doesn't give names for either of Jeff's parents. I have noticed that Grandma has at least 4 different names on this website, so I feel quite at liberty to choose my own names, Ruth and Harry.

But enough from me – on with the story…..

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Resolutions

Later that same day Alan sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the now-blank viewscreen. John certainly hadn't minced his words – in fact he couldn't remember the last time he had seen his elder brother so angry.  That was typical of John – he always played the protective big brother as far as Tin Tin was concerned. Alan shook his head, wondering - he had no idea Tin Tin was feeling like that – why couldn't she have said something to him? And what did John mean by saying he wasn't the only one interested in her? Who did he mean? Gordon? – he was always making comments whenever Tin Tin turned up in a new outfit, but with Gordon you were never quite sure if he meant it or was doing it to wind you up. Virgil? Alan recalled a scene last month when they had all been in the lounge, chatting. Virgil was resting his hands on the back of Tin Tin's chair, a fact to which they both seemed oblivious, though it was all Alan could do to keep his temper in check. Brains? She seemed to spend a lot of time with him down in the lab these days.

It was no use – he had another three weeks up here on the station, and at this rate he would be driving himself insane. He quickly pulled on a T-shirt and shorts and headed for the gym, where he could work off his aggression on the exercise machines.

An hour later, showered and changed into his pyjamas, he lay on the bed with his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. It had been fine when they were children, growing up together, they had been the best of friends. Then when they reached their teens he first started to feel a bit awkward around her. There had been a few snatched kisses at High School dances, then they had both been away at college. There he had plenty of girls. Heck, in his last year, after winning his first motor racing championship, they were practically throwing themselves at him. A guy would have had to be made of stone to resist that. But his father's plans for International Rescue were nearing completion, so he had always made it clear that he was not interested in any long-term relationships. Even so, he suspected he had left a few young ladies disappointed. He knew that Tin Tin had had other men friends – with her looks and figure she could have turned the head of a monk. Some of them had been very keen – he still remembered the time that guy Eddie Houseman had turned up unexpectedly at the island, an incident which still made Alan's blood boil just to think about it. Steady on there, he told himself firmly – he didn't fancy spending another hour in the gym.

Once the rescue business had started and they were both back on the island he had tried to pick up where they had left off, but it wasn't easy. They never seemed to get any time to themselves. He smiled as he recalled that night in Paris after the business over the Anderbad tunnel, when Tin Tin had turned up out of the blue and they had spent the whole evening dancing together. Now he would be hard put to remember the last time he had touched her. It wasn't that he didn't want to – there were some occasions, especially if they were standing on the balcony together after supper, watching the moon rise over the bay, that he just ached to be able to put his arms around her and kiss her pretty lips. But he was always held back by the thought of the 'audience' just inside the room, and the knowing looks and smirks he would have to suffer.

That was the trouble with living on the island – you were under a microscope all the time. And when everyone was treating you as the baby of the family as well it made it doubly hard. Up here it was different, he was in control. He rather prided himself on the way he was able to respond when a call came through for International Rescue. For those people he was their last – sometimes their only – hope, and during the three years since they had started operations he had developed a skill for being able to calm and reassure callers, while at the same time extracting the information his brothers would need to perform a rescue. He toyed briefly with the idea of getting Tin Tin to come up here with him for his next tour of duty, but the thought of his father's reaction if he broached the idea – or Kyrano's for that matter – made it a non-starter. Yet somehow he had to be able to achieve the composure he had up here when he was down on the island. His gaze wandered around the room, and he caught sight of his trumpet. Now there was an idea …

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The following month, as they changed shifts, John made no comments other than the normal routine debriefing. If he noticed Alan was carrying his trumpet case as well as his regular holdall he made no reference to the fact. Once back on Thunderbird 3, Alan quickly stowed his gear in a locker before joining Scott on the flight deck. On arriving home he behaved just as normal. It wasn't until a couple of days later that he felt ready to make his move.

After lunch he excused himself, saying there was something he needed to do on Thunderbird 3. He took the tunnel from the lounge to the big ship, then dropped down into the hangar again, but this time took the service lift that led, through a concealed door, into the Round House. This had been built ostensibly as guest quarters, but as guests were infrequent on Tracy island the boys had commandeered sections of it for their hobbies. John had blacked out one of the smaller rooms as a darkroom for his photography, while Virgil tended to store a lot of his painting equipment in another room, and often worked on his paintings in the lounge that comprised one third of the building's circumference.

Once in the lounge he lifted his hand and put a call through to John. When his brother answered he said, "John, I need a favour. Tin Tin was in the lounge a few minutes ago. Can you call down and make some excuse to get her to come over to the Round House? Don't tell her I'm here."

John looked somewhat puzzled, but said "Sure thing, Alan."

"Thanks, John, I owe you for this."

John closed the connection. "Yes", he said quietly to the darkened screen "and you'll never know how much," before pressing the button that would signal a non-emergency call. 

"What's up John?" his father answered.

"Hi there, Dad." He looked past his father at the other figures in the room. "Nothing's up, I just wondered if Tin Tin could do me a favour."

Tin Tin looked up from the magazine she was reading. "Of course, John. What is it?"

"Could you go over to the Round House for me and see how much high-speed film I've got left? I forgot to check before I came up here, and if I need some I might as well order it now so it will be ready for the next time I'm home. You know where I keep it, don't you?"

"Yes, John. I'll do it now – I just fancy a walk anyway."

As Tin Tin entered the Round House she paused – she could hear music playing, and it seemed to be coming from the lounge. Quietly she pushed open the door to see Alan standing by the window, his trumpet to his lips. He was playing a piece of classical music that she couldn't identify, with high, fluting notes. When the music finished she came forward. "Alan, that was lovely! It's years since I've heard you play your trumpet – you've improved a lot since I last heard you."

He lowered the instrument and smiled at her. "I normally keep it on the station and play there – it's a bit loud to play at home, but there were some pieces I wanted to work on, so I decided to bring it down with me this time." He hesitated, "Would you like to hear some more?"

"Please, I'd love to."

He walked over to the backing machine and selected a track, "I think you'll like this one."

The music began with a theme played on the piano, slow and seductive. Then Alan raised his trumpet and took over the main theme, while the piano faded into the background. On the trumpet it sounded soulful, yearning. Tin Tin watched Alan as he played. His eyes were half-closed in concentration, and on the high notes he would raise the instrument, tipping back his head. There seemed to be something different about him. He seemed taller, for one thing, more mature.

As the music finished Tin Tin applauded softly. "That was so beautiful! What is the music?"

"It's a jazz piece from the middle of the last century called _A child is waiting_. It's one of my favourites."

"You know, you look different when you're playing."

He nodded, "I feel different. I think it's because this is something only _I_ can do – I don't have to worry about my brothers muscling in on it." He looked at her. "Have you ever wondered what things would be like if Dad hadn't started International Rescue?"

She looked at him in surprise at the direction the conversation seemed to be taking, "Well, a lot of people who are alive today would be dead – including me."

"Yes, that's true, but I sometimes wonder what it would be like to have my own life, and not be cooped up here with all my family, or up on the station all by myself."

She looked at him, puzzled, "What are you trying to say, Alan?"

He moved towards her, taking her hands in his. "Tin Tin, there's so much I want to say to you. Every month when I'm on the station I think of all the things I want to say, but when I get back down here I never seem to manage to say them. I often wish it could be just you and me here on the island, nobody else. Then I could tell you how I feel. As it is, I feel like we're in a goldfish bowl, with all the family looking on – I don't think I can work with an audience."

Tin Tin felt herself start to flush. "Is that what all this has been about?"

"What do you mean?"

She pushed him away. "I've been going through hell all this time because you're worried about what your brothers might think? For heaven's sake, Alan, don't you ever stop to think that other people might have feelings too? I sit there day after day, waiting for you to make a move, knowing that any moment John might call down with another emergency and you'll be off. Do you have any idea what that's like? Watching you take off, wondering each time if this will be the time you don't come back?" Alan had never seen her like this. She was like a wildcat, her eyes flashing angrily. "I can't go on like this, Alan. Either we come to an understanding, or it's over."

He flushed "And what will you do then? Go back to your lover, Eddie?"

Her voice was icy calm. "Eddie never was my lover, Alan. Nor was anyone else. and not for any want of trying on their part either, but I was always waiting for you." Her voice rose. "Now I'm tired of waiting, tired of being treated like some spare part for one of your engines that you keep handy in case you might need it someday. Maybe I will go back to Eddie. At least he would consider my feelings, and there's a better chance he's going to come home each day." With those words she turned and ran from the room.

Alan watched in dismay as she stormed out, slamming the door. Damn! he'd done it again – why did he always manage to say the wrong thing?. "Tin Tin, stop! Come back!" He ran after her, reaching the main door just as she was heading down the first flight of stairs. "Please come back! I didn't mean it like that!"

She turned her head to look at him just as she started down the second flight. Her foot slipped on the step and as she felt her balance go she made a grab for the handrail..

"Tin Tin! No!" Alan watched in horror as she fell down the rest of the flight to the ground. He ran after her. "Please be alright, Tin Tin, please!" he sobbed, as he bent over her. She moaned softly. His professional training took over as he quickly checked her over, then lifted his wristcomm and pressed the emergency sequence. When his father's face appeared, Alan gave a quick summary of what had happened. Within minutes Scott and Virgil emerged through the door of the Round House, carrying a stretcher.

"What happened?" asked Scott. 

"We were having a row. She ran off and fell down the stairs. I think her collarbone is broken."

Virgil grabbed Alan by the shoulders and shook him, hard. "What have you done to her?"

Alan pushed back, belligerently, "What's it to you anyway?"

Scott stepped between and separated them with a shove. "Leave off, you two – there's no time for that. Give me a hand to get her to sickbay."

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John paced back and forth across the control room of Thunderbird 5, clenching and unclenching his fists. The beep from the communications console was a welcome interruption. He pressed the switch and saw Gordon's face appear, with the slightly distorted view that showed he was using his wristcomm.

"Hi there," said Gordon. "Dad said he'd told you the news when you made your check-in this evening. I thought you might like to have someone to talk to."

John leaned both hands on the console. "What's happening down there?"

"Brains reckons Tin Tin's got a mild concussion as well as the broken collarbone. Last time I looked in she was still unconscious. Both Alan and Kyrano were in there with her, sitting glaring at each other in total silence. Everybody's pretty tense – I even heard Dad and Grandma snapping at each other earlier."

John looked at his brother. "Well, you might not want to talk to me soon."

"Why's that?"

"Because all this is my fault." John resumed his pacing, "Alan wanted me to find out why Tin Tin was mad at him. I talked to her, then gave him a chewing out about the way he'd been treating her."

"When was this?"

"Last month when I was down there."

"So, excuse me for being thick here, but how is all this your fault? And for Pete's sake, will you stand still – you're making me sea-sick!"

John stopped and looked at him. "You're the aquanaut. You don't get sea-sick."

"Space-sick then – whatever – you're making me giddy."

John came and slumped in a chair in front of the console. "It's my fault because this afternoon Alan called me and got me to send Tin Tin over to the Round House. If I hadn't done that she wouldn't have had the fall!"

Gordon looked at the despair in his brother's face and realisation dawned. "You're in love with her too?" John nodded, mutely. "Are you going to tell her?"

"What good would it do? She's never going to look at anyone but Alan."

"Geez, bro', how can you stand it? Living that close with her and not saying anything?"

John shrugged. "I've managed this long. I'll just settle for seeing her happy."

Gordon, for once, was at a loss for words. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't want you saying anything to her, if that's what you mean. Not a word, OK?"

"OK, brothers' honour."

"And let me know when she wakes up."

"Sure thing, bro'. You take care now."

As Gordon's face disappeared from the screen, John went back to his pacing.

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 Scott had been looking for Virgil, and finally tracked him down in Thunderbird 2's hangar. He emerged from the elevator to see his brother high up on the mobile scaffolding under the big craft's empty pod bay.

"Virgil, what the heck are you doing?"

Virgil spoke without looking round. "These clamps are due for checking. I thought I'd make a start."

"At this hour?" Scott came nearer and noticed something that alarmed him. "Virgil! You're not wearing your safety harness! Come down off there!"

Virgil glared down at him. "Stop ordering me around. You're not my commander when we're at home." 

"For heaven's sake, Virg," pleaded Scott, "haven't we had enough accidents today?" To his relief Scott saw his brother turn and press the controls to lower the platform. By the time it reached ground level, Virgil was sitting on the edge of the platform, his legs dangling. Scott climbed up and sat down beside him. "What's up, pal? I've never seen you fly off the handle the way you did this afternoon. You're usually the steady one."

"Sorry, Scott, but when I saw Tin Tin lying there like that, something inside me just snapped." He scowled. "It's not fair – why is Alan in there with her? He's the last person she wants to see – she was trying to get away from him!"

Scott put his arm round his brother's shoulders. "You've really got it bad, haven't you, little brother?"

Virgil glanced sideways at him. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to me. I've seen the way you look at her. Well, maybe this will be your chance. If she doesn't want to see Alan any more, then you can make your move." He shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder what Dad was thinking of, bringing her back to live with us. When you've got five young men and one gorgeous girl cooped up together on an island like this, it's a wonder we're not awash with hormones."

Virgil gave his brother a gentle punch on the shoulder. "Sounds like you're due for some shore leave, big brother."

Scott grinned back. "I think we all are. Come on, let's stow this gear away and go back upstairs to see if there's any news."

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Ruth Tracy entered the sickbay to see Alan slumped in one of the chairs, despair written across his face as he held Tin Tin's limp hand. As she came in, Kyrano rose and, with a quiet "Excuse me," left the room. 

"Well, here's a turnaround" she said cheerfully. 

Her youngest grandson looked up. "What do you mean, Grandma?" he asked.

She smiled. "Usually I come in here to find Tin Tin sitting next to you in that bed. I often have to chase her off to get some rest herself."

Alan looked at the figure in the bed. "I'm only here because she's still asleep. Once she's awake, I don't think she'll want to see me again."

His grandmother sat down on the other chair. "You two had a row, eh? Don't worry, it happens. When I think of all the rows I had with Harry when we were courting – and after we were married -  but we had a long and happy time together, despite that." She looked at her grandson, smiling, "and don't look at me like that young Alan. Can't you imagine your grandmother as a young girl in love? The important thing after any argument is to pick yourself up, make up with each other and carry on from where you left off."

Alan looked at the figure in the bed. "Do you think she'll forgive me?"

"Of course she will – she loves you too much not to. She knows you love her too."

"She does?"

Ruth Tracy shook her head impatiently. "Alan, the fact that you love Tin Tin is the worst-kept secret on this island. I know it, so do your father and your brothers. I wouldn't be surprised if the man who pilots the mail-plane knows it too. But a girl still likes to hear it from the man she loves. You can never tell a girl too often that you love her." She paused, reflecting, "You know, I don't think a day of your parents' marriage went past without your father telling your mother how much he loved her."

Alan stroked Tin Tin's hand. "I've wanted to tell her for so long how I feel, but it's so hard when I know everyone is watching me."

"So what if they are? You and Tin Tin are both adults, you're free to do as you please."

Alan scowled. "The other  boys don't seem to think I am. They're always treating me like a kid! Why did I have to be the youngest?"

"Alan, however big the family, someone has to be the youngest. The crucial point," and her she took her grandson's chin in her hand and turned his face towards her, "is that you don't have to act the youngest. This is your chance – you could try acting the protective big brother for a change."

"What do you mean?"

Ruth pointed to the figure in the bed. "She's going to need help for the next few weeks with that arm in a sling. You can be there to look after her – see how you like it." She stood up. "Right, now I've got things to do. Do you want me to bring you a snack as you missed your supper?"

An hour later, Alan was still sitting there holding Tin Tin's hand when he felt her begin to stir. She opened her eyes. "Alan? What are you doing here?"

"Taking care of you. I haven't been doing a very good job of it lately, but I'm going to do better from now on, I promise. How do you feel?"

"My head hurts, and my arm. Alan, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say those things to you."

"I'm sorry too. I didn't realise quite how I felt about you until I saw you lying at the bottom of those stairs. I think I know now how you've been feeling every time I go off on a rescue." He stroked her hair. "I love you Tin Tin."

She smiled. "I know that, silly." She paused. "Will you do something for me – well, two things, actually."

"Of course, what are they?"

"Will you play your trumpet for me again? – not now, but when my head's feeling a bit better. I like you when you play."

"Of course. And what's the other thing?"

She smiled. "Will you kiss me?"

He leant over the bed to kiss her cheek. "Not there, idiot" she said, turning her head and putting her hand round the back of his head so their lips touched.

Ruth Tracy, who had just been entering with a tray of food, backed out quietly and closed the door. They had taken a bit of nudging, but it looked like things were now heading in the right direction.

            -------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's postscript

Is this the end of the story? Will Alan keep his promise, or will he slip back into his old ways? Will Virgil seize the chance to make a move, or will John finally declare his love? I don't know – yet.

But I would like to make all of you an offer. This story could go in several different directions, so I would like to declare it 'open' and give other authors the chance to finish it. Write your own story , carrying on either from here, or from the end of chapter 2 and post it for the rest of us to read. Use the summary line to make it clear that you are continuing this story (as I did with 'On the spot' as a continuation of BoomerCat's 'Aftermath') and let's see where it will take us.

Happy writing, friends!

quiller


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